


Mind Games Book 1

by suburbantimewaster



Series: Mind Games [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bisexuality, F/M, Gen, Het and Slash, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Mystery, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character(s), Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suburbantimewaster/pseuds/suburbantimewaster
Summary: AU After a serious scandal, Starfleet assigns Marino to the newly obtained Deep Space Nine. Unfortunately, it's also where her former childhood friend, Patel, gets his first posting. Will the two be able to reconcile, or will past mistakes only drive them further apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to rewrite Mind Games because, let's face it, my first draft was a little all over the place. Just so you know, this story is practice for three original fiction stories I'm working on called Return of the Greek Gods, Fairy Tale Warriors and The Fight To Survive. My original characters and most of my plot ideas migrated to the first story and the ones that didn't fit migrated to the other two. Check those out if you please though, I should warn you, I'm having some writer's block issues with Return of the Greek Gods.
> 
> I'd like to thank Allucia for beta-reading, nightwing1975 for doing toons of Candy, Mirror Candy and Chris, lilrebelart for drawing Candy, Km92 for drawing Candy, MyMelodyOfTheHeart for also drawing Candy and Hashakgig1106 for RPing with me.
> 
> If you recognize it from the Star Trek community, I don't own it.

Dr. Chris Patel carried his bags through the station, his eyes adjusting to the dark lighting and his body adapting to the heat, filling the new physician with memories of his parents' summer home in India.  With some of the lights flashing like crazy and debris all over the floor, the whole place looked like a bomb went off.  Although, considering that the Cardassians just abandoned the station after a fifty-year Occupation of Bajor, that would not have been outside the realm of possibilities.

As Patel walked along the hallways, he saw a few officers, some Bajoran and others Starfleet, trying to clear some of the rubble and a few civilians packing up to leave.  The scent of dust, grime and alcohol filled the air and the neutral tones of the station clashed with some of the more bright red and yellow of Cardassian architecture.  The doctor stopped midway and put his bags down.  He pulled his PADD out and studied the blueprints on the screen.

"Are you lost?" a man with an Irish accent asked in front of him.

Patel looked up to see that the voice belonged to a Chief Petty officer with curly hair and a heavy built.

"Yeah, could you tell me where my quarters are?" he asked, angling the device at the enlisted officer.

"Sure," the chief said amiably, peering down at the PADD in the doctor's hands.  "Take a left and use the turbolift to go to the Habitat Ring."

"Thank you, sir," Patel told him, turning left and heading forward as if his very life depended on it.

"You're quite welcome!" the chief shouted at the retreating figure.  "And don't call me sir!"

The doctor entered the turbolift and called for the Habitat Ring, setting his bags down and resting his back on the wall.  This was his first posting and he was still a little nervous, only grateful that he was the second string medical doctor rather than the CMO.  In his mind, it would be less pressure on him and the last thing Patel wanted was to feel overwhelmed. 

It wasn't long until the turbolift stopped, a cue for Patel to grab his bags and leave.  He walked through the gently curving corridor until finally reaching the door to his quarters.  Instead of walking right in, the doctor just stood there as if he were hesitant to open it.  He would be rooming with an old friend and—after what happened last time—Patel was a little scared to face her.  He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was Candy Marino, the shy girl from high school who always retreated to a corner with her nose in a book.  The one who would throw herself into fictional worlds and write stories about them.  There's no way _she_ would hold a grudge.

Patel walked through the open doors, greeted to the sound of loud pulses accompanied by a light buzzing ringing through their quarters.  The design itself was simple, surrounded by the same gray walls found on the station.  There was an orange tabby sleeping in the corner on an unzipped (and as yet unpacked) old-fashioned suitcase, and a fan blowing through the room, making the heat less oppressive.  In the middle of their quarters was a young woman in her late twenties sprawled out on a brown couch reading a Cardassian styled PADD.  Her chestnut brown hair was tied into a ponytail, a few loose tendrils escaping to frame her round yet sunken face with emerald eyes.  In stark contrast with her mustard Starfleet uniform was a necklace with a twentieth-century American quarter worn as a pendant and a flask equipped to her hip.

 

 

"Candy?" Patel said, the surprise evident in his voice.

"So, the former Parisses Squares star graces me with his presence," Marino said sardonically, her thick New Jersey accent shining through.

"I guess I deserved that," Patel said with a nervous laugh.  "So, what's with the music?"

"It's Cardassian classical," Marino said nonchalantly. 

"Your taste in music certainly has changed," Patel remarked with slight humor.  "I remember when you wouldn't even listen to Earth classical."

"Actually, I never hated classical, I just prefer it as background music," Marino explained.  "When I'm listening to music, I want something I can dance to."

"So, what's this music supposed to be a background for?" Patel asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Marino asked with a condescending tone.  "I'm reading a manuscript on a Cardassian station written by a Cardassian torturer who loved this music and, let me tell you, torturers from all around the galaxy love classical music."  The ensign shrugged her shoulders.  "Don't know why."

"Oh..." Patel said with understanding.  "So, you're trying to get into his head."

"Give the guy a medal, he got it on the first try," Marino said as if she was an announcer for a Parisses Squares tournament.

Patel's lips formed into an amused smile as he walked to the left. 

"I already took that room," Marino told him without looking up.

"Couldn't wait until I showed up?" Patel asked, turning to his roommate irritably.

"You snooze, you lose," Marino said unapologetically as she pressed a button on her PADD.  "Besides, you wouldn't have wanted it."

"And why would you think that?" Patel demanded to know, his bags feeling heavier.

"Because that room belonged to the writer of this manuscript," Marino explained to him.  "And one of his favorite pastimes was peeling the skin off of Bajorans as if they were freshly plucked fruit,"

"Are you serious?" Patel said, looking at Marino as if she lost her mind.

"Says so himself right here," Marino said as if she just told Patel that their former occupant loved steak and then spoke rather psychotically, as if she were Ramsay Snow himself.  "'There's nothing more enjoyable—'"

"Thanks for the offer, but I really don't need to hear it out loud," Patel said, feeling grateful that his medical training kept him from hurling on the carpet.

He turned around the couch and picked up the pace, walking straight ahead to the second room.

"You won't want that room either," Marino told Patel, stopping him in his tracks.

"How do you know which room I'm going to?" Patel asked her challengingly, his shoulders tensing partly out of frustration.

"Because your footsteps are sounding further away from behind me," Marino explained, as if an Gorn would have figured it out.  "And, from the way you're picking up the pace, I can tell that you're getting irritated with something."

"Can you figure out what's irritating me?" Patel asked Marino sarcastically with a hint of anger.

Either Marino couldn't figure out what it was, or she didn't care.

"Why wouldn't I want that room?" Patel asked more solemnly.

"Because that's where our pazzo Gul conducted his experiments," Marino explained with a shrug.  "If you want to take it, I won't stop you."  She added a bit of sarcasm to her voice.  "Just try to forget that Bajorans were having their eyes gouged out in that room and you'll be fine."

Patel went to the right and set his bags near the door.

"Is there any trouble in this room I should know about?" he asked, trying his best to keep calm but still letting some impatience seep through his voice.

"Nope," Marino told him confidently.  "Just the room where the Cardassian Ramsay kept Bajoran women.  It gave them a false sense of security."

"Then it's the least offensive," Patel remarked with a relieved sigh. 

He turned around and crossed his arms, leaning on the closed doors.  He found himself puzzled by Marino's behavior.  If Patel had arrived first and found that manuscript, he'd be begging Starfleet for a new assignment, or at least a room change. 

Yet here was Marino, the girl who couldn't say Bloody Mary in a bathroom mirror three times, treating finding out that the Cardassian who resided in their room tortured innocent Bajorans as if she won a trip to Casperia Prime.  Despite Patel's horror at Marino's newfound personality, he couldn't help but feel a slight intrigue towards the woman lying on the couch.  So many psychiatrists would kill to be in his position right now.

"Hey, Candy, can I ask you something?" Patel said hesitantly.

"Ask anything you want," Marino told him nonchalantly.  "But that doesn't mean I'll answer."

"All right," Patel said, removing his back from the closed doors.  "Why doesn't anything our former occupant did bother you?"

Marino shrugged.

"Give people power and, more often than not, they'll use it for evil," she said nonchalantly.  "You see it all throughout history, Marquis De Sade, Mengele, Lex Luthor."

"Isn't Lex Luthor a fictional character?" Patel pointed out as if he was explaining to a child that Santa wasn't real.

"Yeah, but he's historically famous for being Superman's arch-nemesis," Marino explained, as if she were oblivious to Patel's tone.  "Superman and Lex Luthor are both fictional representations of powerful people, the former uses it for good and the latter for evil."  Marino's voice turned bitter as the kitten jumped on her skinny stomach.  "Though I'm starting to wonder why I have to explain that to you."

Patel's face fell.  Then he cleared his throat, preparing himself for a long overdue apology.

"Look, Candy," Patel began in a sincere tone as Marino put her PADD down on the nearby night stand.  "About what happened in high school." Patel struggled as his eyes met Marino's.  "I'm really sorry."

"It's in the past," Marino said casually as she pet her kitten.

Patel let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"So, what's with the cat?" Patel asked, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him.

"His name's Shere Khan," Marino said, petting the orange ball of fur as if Patel hadn't spoke.  "His former owners abandoned him, so I took him."  Then adopted a cuter tone as if she were talking to a baby.  "Isn't that right, wittle boy?"

 Patel smiled as he heard Shere Khan purr loudly enough to be heard over the fan and the music while Marino stroked his fur, glad that some things about the girl he used to know hadn't changed.  Though he had to admit, Shere Khan was a cute kitten.  Patel walked over to Marino, his hand out to pet Shere Khan, who only scratched and hissed at him, causing Patel to quickly withdraw his hand.

"Yeah, he doesn't like strangers," Marino explained, continuing to pet Shere Khan absentmindedly.

"Now you tell me," Patel said bitterly as he grabbed his bags and headed for the door.

"Tell Cathy I said hi," Marino told Patel's retreating back.

* * *

Marino gave all of her attention to Shere Khan, feeling the vibration of his purrs.  All it took was one sneeze for him to get off.  She still had time before her next shift to make one call, even if it was one she dreaded.  Marino took a sip from her flask, enjoying the bubbly substance going down her throat, then finally entered her room on the right with another fan set up in the middle.  She set her personal computer on the desk and opened it.

"Computer, connect to T’Mara on Vulcan, Priority One connection, authorization Marino-Alpha-6359-Rose," Marino ordered, taking a seat.

It wasn't long until a caramel face female Vulcan with her raven hair tied in a long braid appeared on Marino's screen.

_"Ensign Marino, I was expecting your call,"_ T'Mara said, noticing the flask in Marino's hand with a disapproving gaze.

"Don't worry, it's just synthehol," Marino explained as she put it on her desk.

_"Acceptable,"_ T'Mara said with a nod.  _"I suppose you have just finished making yourself at home on Deep Space Nine."_

"Actually, I haven't even started," Marino admitted with a wave of her hand.  "I got caught up reading this manuscript left by the previous owner."

_"What was the content of this manuscript?"_ T'Mara asked with clear intrigue.

"It was about looking into the mind of a Cardassian who loved torturing any Bajoran he could get his hands on," Marino explained with a smile and tone equivalent to a five-year-old girl who just tried on her first princess dress.  "Rebels, collaborators, civilians, you name it." Marino's smile faded and her tone grew more condescending.  "Though it does talk a bit too much about Cardassian superiority over other species.  Other than that, it was like reading something written by Ramsay Snow.  Only thing missing was the sigil of a flayed man."

_"Considering the character of Ramsay Snow, I would imagine that Roose Bolton would be more likely to write such a tale,"_ T'Mara told her.

"No, Roose Bolton wouldn't be stupid enough to flay a collaborator.  Remember what he told Ramsay?" Marino recalled and then adopted a serious stance.  "'If you acquire a reputation as a mad dog, you'll be treated as a mad dog.  Taken out back and slaughtered for pig feed.'"

_"Logical,"_ T'Mara acknowledged in a voice only a tiny bit away from being complete monotone.  _"Speaking of_ Game of Thrones _, when we last talked, you described being assigned to Deep Space Nine as 'being sent to The Wall without having to take a vow of celibacy and no Jon Snow to make it bearable.'  I am pleased to see that your opinion has changed."_

"I'll say one thing," Marino said with a confident smile.  "You never would've found anything like that manuscript on the _Prometheus_."  Then she pointed to a suitcase with isolinear chips, one of them containing Game of Thrones.  "Plus, I made sure to bring that gorgeous bastard with me."

_"Ah yes, your last posting,"_ T'Mara acknowledged, completely ignoring Marino's last remark.  _"I remember you compared the_ Prometheus _to serving on a dollhouse in outer space."_

"With everyone all sunshine and roses, you always knew who was good and who was bad and everyone went around talking about how we're so superior and have found the _right_ way," Marino said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

_"To which you believe that there's no such thing as 'the right way,'"_ T'Mara said, raising her eyebrow at the last part.

"And anyone who believes that is deluding themselves," Marino said with a scoff.  "This is turning into less of a check up and more of a counseling session."

_"Considering the nature of these 'check-ups,' a counseling session is inevitable,"_ T'Mara informed Marino.  _"Or are you forgetting about the incident that nearly resulted in your expulsion from Starfleet?"_

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten," Marino said, taking a sip from her flask.  "It's the whole reason I got assigned to this shit bowl."

_"From what you've told me, I can logically assume that the assignment is a good fit for you,"_ T'Mara told her positively.

"Great, then the conversation's over," Marino said, about to cut the connection until T'Mara raised her hand.

_"Unfortunately, you and I still have some issues to discuss,"_ T'Mara told Marino in as harsh of a tone a Vulcan could muster.  _"For instance, were there any temptations when you arrived on the station?"_

"Just one," Marino said distastefully.  "When I walked into the station, I smelled booze.  I'm talking the smell of stardrifters, kanar, blood wine, Saurian brandy, and something that smelled like a citrusy wine.  Even if the smell of dust and grime mostly covered it up.  Not to mention the heat."

_"Does the heat curb your cravings for alcohol?"_ T'Mara asked in a helpful manner.

"You'd think, but no," Marino said sardonically, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.  "Don't get me wrong, thanks to living on Vulcan for a few months, I've gotten used to three-digit degree weather.  It's Shere Khan who truly suffered."  Marino's voice filled with distress as she remembered her kitten's meows and his attempts to bathe himself with his tongue repeatedly.  "I had to set up fans all around my quarters to keep the poor little guy from overheating!"

_"Considering Cardassian physiology and the average temperate of their home planet, this does not surprise me,"_ T'Mara informed Marino.

"Then I hope Cardassian animals don't have fur, because that would be pure torture," Marino remarked bitterly.  "But we both know I didn't call you to talk about Shere Khan's suffering."

_"Yes, I can sense that you are troubled by far more than your feline's suffering,"_ T'Mara told her.  _"Care to tell me what that would be?"_

"I had a little run in with a blast from my past," Marino told her.

_"I didn't think anyone from the Prometheus would be assigned to Deep Space Nine,"_ T'Mara stated with confusion.

"Actually, this one isn't from the _Prometheus_ ," Marino informed her.  "He goes much further back."

* * *

Patel unpacked everything and then set his computer on the desk, seeing a message from the one member of his family he could count on.  It only took a few seconds for the face of a jet black haired young woman with a toffee complexion to appear on his screen.

_"Hey, Chris,"_ she said with a smile.  _"By the time you view this, you're probably settling down in your new posting.  You know, the rundown Cardassian station you were dreading.  Well, I kind of envy you right now.  I'm still interning on Andoria,"_ Cathy said, pouring herself a drink.  _"Which makes New Jersey winters look like Gujarat."_

Patel looked at the alcohol with a disapproving glance.

_"I know, you don't like your baby sister drinking,"_ Cathy said, rolling her eyes.  _"But cut me some slack, I'm living on a giant ice cube."_

Patel drew back with a jolt.  It was scary how well Cathy knew him.

_"All right, the internship's not all bad.  I got to watch Redbats nesting in a cave!"_ Cathy said excitedly, putting her hands on her chest.  _"Though one of them freaked out and nearly crawled through my brain."_

Patel found himself peering at the top of Cathy's head, at least as much as he could see, for signs of scratches.

_"Thankfully, Areliv helped me get it out,"_ Cathy said with a dreamy smile.  _"He even offered to take me out to dinner."_

_And Cathy's got a new boyfriend,_ Patel thought with both pride and worry.  _Though I don't think Mom and Dad will like their daughter dating an Andorian._

_"I know what you're thinking and Areliv is not my boyfriend!"_ Cathy insisted, though her bright red face told another story.  _"He's_ just _a_ _friend!  A very handsome and charming friend!"_   She laughed.  _"All right, I'm kind of hoping that it will turn into something more."_ Cathy smiled brightly.  _"Who knows?  Maybe Areliv and I can double date with you and Ian."_

Patel's face fell.

" _Anyway, I've got to go.  I'm meeting my boss in a few minutes,_ " Cathy told him.  " _Try to make the best of your assignment and, remember, our summers on Gujarat prepared you for Cardassian heat, even if it made Andorian cold almost intolerable._ "

Cathy closed the connection, leaving Patel staring at a black screen.

* * *

 

 

"His name's Chris Patel," Marino answered.

_"Ah, yes,"_ T'Mara said with a nod of her head.  _"The childhood friend who you separated from in high school."_

"We both fell into different crowds," Marino explained bitterly.  "He belonged to the hotshot squad and I belonged to the social outcasts."

_"I recall you saying this during your time at the monastery,"_ T'Mara noted.  _"However, I do not recall you ever telling me that Chris did anything to personally attack you."_

"Oh, he didn't," Marino stated, hoping she wouldn't have to clarify.

_"Then I fail to see the problem,"_ T'Mara said, shrugging her eyebrows.

"The _problem_ is that I'm trying to make a new life for myself and I don't need some childhood friend telling everyone about the 'sweet little girl' I _used_ to be," Marino said crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

_"Again, I fail to see how a childhood friend would cause you personal strife at your new duty position,"_ T'Mara told her.

It was at that moment Shere Khan chose to jump on the desk.

_"Is that the transient feline you found outside the monastary?"_ T'Mara asked, her brown eyes following Shere Khan.  _"The one you retrieved the fans for?"_

"You mean the one who was abandoned on Vulcan?" Marino said, her eyes narrowing as she remembered seeing him panting on the hot desert of her former retreat.  "He didn't really have anyone else who could take him in."

_"So, you chose to make him your pet,"_ T'Mara recalled.

"What was I supposed to do?" Marino said defensively as she took Shere Khan off of her desk and held him in her arms.  "Help the poor kitty and then abandon him to the shelter?"

_"You always did have a compassion for animals,"_ T'Mara told her, raising an eyebrow.  _"People are another matter."_

"Yeah, animals rock, people suck," Marino said, setting Shere Khan down on the floor, meowing loudly as he rubbed against Marino's legs.  "Sorry, wittle boy, but your mama's in the middle of something."

T'Mara raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm one of those nutsos who treats their pets like their children," Marino said, folding her arms.  "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

T'Mara raised her right eyebrow.

_"Perhaps Mr. Patel will not divulge sensitive information without your approval,"_ T'Mara told her helpfully.

"You might be right about that," Marino conceded hesitantly.  "But he might get defensive when people insult me."  She recalled his apology before contacting T'Mara.  "Plus, Chris would still have questions that I really don't want to answer."

_And one of them will be answered when the CMO arrives with my medical file,_ Marino thought sardonically.  _That'll be fun._

_"I'm sure if Mr. Patel respects your privacy, then he will not force you to share information that you are uncomfortable divulging,"_ T'Mara told her reassuringly.

"You've got a point there," Marino agreed with a reluctant nod.

_"Is that all that concerns you?"_ T'Mara asked.

"Actually, there's one more thing..." Marino asked hesitantly, holding up her right index finger.

_"Ensign Marino, Vulcans do not 'change their mind.'  You are still not permitted to imbibe any alcohol,"_ T'Mara told her firmly.

"Wow, am I really that predictable?" Marino asked, her eyes widening.

_"Yes."_ T'Mara answered in her usual matter of fact tone.

She has me there, she thought. When she spoke again, her voice was a little more relaxed.  "Though, you have to admit, it's going to be hard for me to 'curb my cravings' when I'm assigned to a place that smells like booze."

_"Your argument is illogical since the synthehol and blitz should curb your cravings,"_ T'Mara told her sympathetically.  _"Additionally, consider the manuscript you found.  It may be logical to conclude that Deep Space Nine could give you the mental stimulation the_ Prometheus _could not."_

"Yeah, but even Deep Space Nine can't keep my brain entertained all the time," Marino concluded with her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side.  "So I might need a little pick-me-up on those slow days."

_"As your sponsor, I must advise against that,"_ T'Mara told her firmly. 

"Fongool," Marino said angrily, putting her arms to her side.  "Chat with you more, but I need to unpack."

_"Very well,"_ T'Mara said with a nod.  _"Remember to contact me if you feel any urges."_

"Sure thing," Marino said as T'Mara held up her right hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting.

_"Live long and prosper,"_ T'Mara told her.

"I can try for the latter, but I'm not making any promises about the former," Marino told her honestly.

_"Ensign Marino..."_ T'Mara told her in a slight warning tone.

"All right," Marino said, putting her hand up in the Vulcan salute.  "Peace and long life, Counselor."

Marino cut off the connection and looked around her quarters.  It seemed pretty standard with a desk, the typical Cardassian mattress, her bags near the door and silhouettes of paintings owned by their former occupier.  Like everyone else on the station, he left in a hurry.  She unzipped one of her bags and pulled out a few isolinear chips that contained recordings of all of her favorite songs, some of them having their own playlists.  She used her personal console and installed them all in her quarters, instructing the computer to play one at random.

"Journey," Marino exclaimed with a bright smile as the music started playing.  "Awesome!"  Emptying the contents from the rest of her luggage, she lazily threw them in the correct places in her quarters, singing along to "Don't Stop Believing," relishing in the antiquated style.

* * *

Patel turned on the connection, ready to record his outgoing message.

"Hey, Cathy," he greeted.  "Really liked hearing your message and glad to hear you're doing well, in spite of the freezing cold.  Though I might have to check this Areliv out to see if he's good enough for my sister."  He smiled to let Cathy know that he wasn't serious.  Well, not entirely.  "Things on Deep Space Nine aren't too bad and trust me when I say the heat's the least of my worries." 

The doctor's smile disappeared.  "The whole place looks like a shipwrecked ghost town and knowing the history of this station doesn't help.  Let me put it this way, Candy found a manuscript of the Gul who used to live here and, by the way she talked about him, things didn't sound pleasant."  Patel's smile returned, imagining the look on Cathy's face.  "Yeah, you heard that right, Candy's my roommate.  Though, she's a little different from how we remember.  As for how, let's just say that she finally got that backbone you always said she needed to grow."

Patel's face fell.  "Also, there's something I need to tell you.  Ian and I broke up.  I know you liked him and you're sad to see him go, but it's better this way.  Our careers were taking us in different directions and we both felt that it would be better to, in archaic terms, rip the band aid off rather than leave it on until it naturally falls.  Anyway, I have to go.  Plenty of unpacking to do and I need to get the Infirmary set up for when the CMO arrives."

He closed the connection and unzipped one of his bags.  He meticulously placed everything where they belonged and realized he could hear Marino's music from across his quarters.  He had to admit that the ensign had a beautiful singing voice, but he had a hunch that he'd be listening to it way more often than he wanted to.

* * *

Marino walked through the corridor, on her way to the constable's office, smelling the same liquor that greeted her when she first arrived on the station.  She turned her head to see a Ferengi packing up to leave.

"We're closed," The Ferengi said, turning to look at her.

"Yeah, I can tell by the lack of customers," Marino said sardonically as she walked in.

 The Ferengi turned to face her and just stared at her intently.

"Have I seen you before?" the Ferengi asked.

"If you're trying to hit on me, pick a better line," Marino said with a scoff.

"Believe me, under normal circumstances, I would be hitting on you," the Ferengi told her.  "But, right now, I'm not in the mood."

"Yeah, I can tell by all the boxes you're packing up," Marino said, noticing the packed up suitcases and boxes all around save for a few products of liquor.  "Not that I blame you."  she indicated to the mess around them with rubble all over the floor and the stench of the former corpses that were rotting.  "Especially when you consider the fight that took place earlier."

"What do you know about the fight?" the Ferengi asked, peering up at her.

"I know that a few disgruntled Cardassians didn't like ceding the station to us," Marino said, once again pointing to the rubble and imagining some very angry Cardassian soldiers rampaging through the station as if they were mini-Godzillas stomping through Tokyo.  "A few Bajorans stood up to them and got themselves killed."  The stench of the former corpses brought Marino to mind of Bajorans standing up to the Cardassians and paying the price.  "And you got caught in the crossfire."

"You've got quite the imagination, Miss..." the Ferengi said with a nervous laugh.

"Ensign, actually," Marino corrected for him.  "Ensign Candy Marino."

"Well, Ensign Marino, let me be the first to tell you," the Ferengi told her.  "I don't stick my neck out for—"  the Ferengi did a double-take.  "Wait a minute, did you just say that your name was Candy?" he burst into hysterical laughter as if Marino just told him the funniest joke in the galaxy.  "What was your previous job, Dabo Girl?"

"Actually I was a stripper on Risa.  I took Candy as my stage name and it stuck," Marino told him sardonically, rolling her eyes.  "There, we got it out of the way.  Are you done laughing now?"

"Hold on," the Ferengi told her and, after a few minutes of laughter, turned his attention back to her.  "As I was saying, I'm not a hero and I don't stick my neck out for anyone."

"Then explain those red marks around your neck that look like humanoid fingers, Mister...," Marino said with a smug smile, looking at the Ferengi's neck.

"Quark," the Ferengi told her, feeling his neck and letting out slight gasps.

"Well, Quark, one of the Cardassians tried to throttle you in the disaster," Marino said confidently.  "Lucky for you, security put a stop to it before you joined the corpses."

"I thought Hew-Mons were supposed to be compassionate," Quark told her.  "Not psychopaths who take joy in other people's misery."

"Again with the stereo-types," Marino said with an exasperated sigh.  "Also, I'm not a psychopath.  I'm a high-functioning sociopath.  Trust me, I've been diagnosed."

"Do, I look like I care?" Quark asked her.  "All right, answer this.  Why would the Cardassians want to kill me?  I'm not Bajoran and I already told you that I don't stick my neck out for anyone.  I'm just an honest businessman trying to make a living."

"Or so you want people to think," Marino said, with a scoff as she looked over the Promenade.  "You've got the Dabo table in the center, the holosuites are all located in your establishment, meaning you own every single one, and the place smells of Kanar, Stardrifters, Saurian Brandy, Bloodwine and another wine with a citrusy smell."  She took a sip from her flask.  "I can also detect a hint of incense used to cover up the smell of Blitz in places where selling the stuff is illegal.  So I'm guessing you're not above breaking the law to make a quick strip.  No wonder the Cardassians tried to kill you."

"Ensign, you've got no proof I've done anything wrong," Quark told her.  "And, as I said before, I'm leaving.  So I won't be a problem for anyone."

"Oh, you've got me all wrong," Marino said, rubbing her pendant between her fingers.  "I don't want you to leave."

"Why, so you could get enough dirt on me to lock me up?" Quark said with a scoff.

"Relax, I don't bother with small fry," Marino told him, looking around the Promenade.  "I prefer to go after the big fish."  In the hallway, she saw a tall Cardassian male with blue eyes and civilian clothes observing her with an intense gaze.

"What makes you think I'm not a big fish?" Quark asked her, snapping Marino out of her daze.

She looked back at Quark to see that he was scowling at her, pride obviously hurt.

"I only had to look around your establishment once and I already figured out your deal," Marino told him with a scoff, giving a glance back to see the Cardassian had disappeared.  "The only reason you haven't left yet is because you're still looking for anything else of value you can get your hands on."  Marino rubbed her pendant between her fingers.  "It's why you keep staring at my necklace."

"How do you know I'm not staring at your breasts?" Quark asked her with a devious smile full of pointy teeth, making Marino think of the shark from _Jaws_.

"Because there's not much to look at," the ensign told him, indicating how small her breasts were.

"Don't put yourself down like that, Ensign," the former barkeep said, keeping his perverted stare on Marino.  "Your breasts may be small, but they _do_ look firm."

The ensign took her pendant off, holding it to the right and watching Quark's eyes alternate between looking at the quarter and her breasts.  Marino swung her pendant side to side.

"You are getting sleeeeepy," she said in a hypnotic voice.

"Is that supposed to hypnotize me?" Quark asked her as if it was the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen.

"Couldn't resist," Marino said with a light chuckle.  "Okay, it's clear that you were looking at both," the ensign said with a shrug.  "Probably thinking of all the latinum you could make selling this relic from Earth's twentieth-century, and sex, of course."  She put her necklace back on.  "Maybe you wanted me to fuck you in the back of the bar and give you my pendant as a parting gift."

"You _do_ have a _dirty_ mind," Quark told her appreciatively.  "Not what I'd expect from a Starfleet officer."

"And you also have a tendency to stereo-type," Marino remarked bitterly.

"Usually, they're true," the barkeep told her.  "But, if you want to prove me wrong, I'm always up for it."

"Oh, I have every intention of proving you wrong," Marino told him with a slightly suggestive tone.  "Just not in the way you want me to."

"Then why do you want me to stay so bad?"

"I just think you're missing out on a great business opportunity," Marino explained with a shrug.

"And what do you know about business?" Quark asked her condescendingly.

"Nothing," Marino admitted.  "But I do know that people drink more when they're depressed."

_"Really?"_ Quark told her as if she just said that space was black.  "Where _have_ you been hiding this _valuable_ information?"

"If you already knew that, then why are you so determined to leave?" Marino said, her eyes narrowing.

"You're the one who said I got strangled before you arrived," Quark said as if he were talking to a child.  "Why do _you_ think I want to leave?"

"Because you're so blinded by fear you can't see a good opportunity right in front of you," Marino said, some anger seeping in her voice but taking great care not to let it fester. 

Quark laughed.  "Then tell me, _Hew-Mon,_ what's this good 'opportunity' I can't see?" he asked her.

"You're standing on a gold mine of misery, one you refuse to take advantage of," Marino told him as if it were obvious.  "And I think the two of us could form a working relationship."  At the sight of Quark's lecherous grin, Marino made a quick correction.  "A _platonic_ one."

"All right, what kind of working relationship did you have in mind?" Quark inquired, his tone making it clear that he was merely humoring her.

But Marino wasn't going to give him the satisfaction that he was rubbing her the wrong way.  "Stick around and maybe you'll find out," the ensign told him, taking her leave.

Marino walked briskly to the Constable's office, not knowing if her anger was because Quark treated her like an Earth bimbo or because Marino was surrounded by the smell of booze and couldn't touch a single drop.  Maybe it was a little of both.  Though her earlier hallucination of the Cardassian wasn't improving her mood either.  Even if he was real, he'd have to be an imbecile to stay on Deep Space Nine, a place that would have that man tarred and feathered for having ridges on his neck.  On the heels of the thought process was that perhaps the Cardassian was incredibly desperate.  Either way, she decided he wasn't worth her time.  The ensign stood outside the door of the Constable's office, hoping he would appreciate what she had to offer this station.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right; I finally posted the second chapter. Forgive me for taking so long, but I've been outlining and writing character profiles so this story will be perfect. In addition, I saw IT in the theatre last year and got obsessed with it (pun not intended) as well as everything else by Stephen King. Right now, I'm reading Salem's Lot. I'm also re-reading the Animorphs book series and I'm on number fourteen.
> 
> I'd like to thank Allucia and MammonDaughter for beta reading as well as hashakgig for helping me with Star Trek information. I'd also like to remind you that, if you recognize it from the Star Trek community, I don't own it.

Marino walked into the Constable's office to find herself surrounded by walls of a dull grey devoid of any decoration.  The whole room was almost barren, save for two brown lounge chairs in front of a long and slightly circular desk of the same color and a gray bucket in the corner.  Dust marks surrounded each item, as if no one's bothered to move any of them in years.  Behind the desk sat a skinny man with brushed back dirty blond hair and unnaturally sunken eyes, almost alien, wearing the standard Bajoran uniform.  He seemed enveloped with his desk, as if he were hard at work on the latest investigation.  If Marino didn't know any better, she'd swear that the man was a Bajoran the Cardassians conducted experiments on to make him the perfect security officer.  Then she remembered people who would often synthetically change their appearance from having scanners inserted into their eyes to having their skin colored green.  The Bajorans wouldn't have access to that kind of technology, but the Cardassians definitely would.  One look at the way the skin around Odo's eyes sunk to draw more attention to them was enough for Marino to reconsider that notion.

Thankfully, she did know better, because the man had no wrinkles on his nose.   Behind him was a wall with neon green vertical lines that reminded Marino of the green rain on the old computer screens in The Matrix holodeck program.

"You know, if I squint hard enough, I think I can see people," the ensign said, gazing at that very wall.

The man only gruffed.

"I take it you're Constable Odo, the tightass investigator buried in his work."  Marino said, crossing her arms and, once again, noticing the lack of decoration.  "Gotta admit, I was hoping for something a little more original but, then again, why mess with the classics?"

"And how would you—" the Constable said, lifting his head up to face her and practically bolted out of his chair.  "You?!"

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"I've read your _report_."

"Then you must be very thorough," Marino told him, taking a drink from her flask.  "Taking the time to study the people who will be working under you."

Odo narrowed his eyes at her as he rested his hands on the desk in an authoritative manner.  "You shouldn't be drinking from that."

The ensign rolled her eyes.  "Relax, it's just synthehol," she told him as if she were explaining to her mother that her tattoo was fake.

"For your sake, you better stick to that," Odo told her harshly.  "I expect my security officers to behave in a professional manner, on and off duty."

"Considering your bucket, I thought you'd be a little more open-minded about off-duty fun," Marino said as she took the right seat in front of Odo's desk.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why else would you have that bucket there if not for nights where you get so wasted, you can't even find the bathroom?"

Odo looked at Marino as if she just told him that fairies were real.  "What exactly do you think that bucket's for?"

"Didn't I just tell you?"

"Elaborate."

Marino gave a frustrated sigh.  "I'd expect a little more intelligence from Deep Space Nine's top investigator but, very well, I will elaborate," Marino told him condescendingly.  "You work hard, you play hard.  Sometimes you get so wasted that you want to vomit, but you can't get to the toilet in time," she explained to Odo as if he were a simpleton.  "So, you have a backup plan with the bucket." The ensign pointed to the dust marks around the bucket.  "Then again, judging by how clean it is and how the dust marks line up around it, you've either never had to use it or you're so uptight, you actually clean the bucket and place it in the exact same spot, making sure to memorize where you put it."  She put her feet up on the desk.  "Normally, I wouldn't judge you for this, but you made that stupid comment about how your security officers must behave professionally, on and off duty.  So, now, I'm totally judging."  Marino stroked her pendant.  "Also, memorizing where you keep your bucket?  Serious waste of brain power, if you ask me."

"First, get your feet off of my desk and sit properly," he ordered.  "Second, you're wrong about my bucket."

Marino sat up straight and gave a single blink.  "What?

Odo gave her a smug smile.  "I said that you're wrong."  Marino shook her hands furiously as she heard the Constable mutter her least favorite words in any language.  "And, to think, your file said that you were smart," Odo said, as if he were challenging Marino to prove her worth.

"I can also tell that you're not from this quadrant, you earned the respect of the Cardassians and you managed to gain the trust of the Bajorans, and that you grew up in a lab,"  Marino said all in one breath, responding to the Constable's challenge.

It was his turn to blink silently.

"So, tell me," Marino said, folding her arms with a smug smile.  "How much of that was wrong?"

"Actually..." Odo hesitated and then admitted begrudgingly.  "It was all correct."

"I knew it!" Marino shouted with glee as she jumped up from her chair.  "My deductions are never wrong!"  Odo gave her a glance.  "Well, most of the time."

 

 

"Tell me," the Constable said with genuine curiosity.  "How did you manage to deduce this?"

"The Bajorans drove the Cardassians out recently, yet you seem right at home in your office as if you've been there for years.   You still have your job, so the Bajorans must not hate you.  I'm also familiar with every species known to the AQ and I've never seen anything like you before.  Since your species is unknown, it's not hard to believe that you got sent to a lab when they found you, something the Kents always feared would happen to Clark."

Again, she managed to say all of this in one breath, stunning Odo.

"I suppose that was rather impressive," he admitted begrudgingly

"And, believe me, that was an easy one," Marino bragged as she sat back down.

"Really?" Odo said with an irritated smile.  "Then why don't I make my own deductions about you?" 

Marino shrugged.  "Sure, knock yourself out."

"You're an arrogant young woman who enjoys showing off and flaunting authority.  You completely ignore proper uniform code and our new Starfleet authority assigned you here because, after the _incident_ , they didn't know what to do with you," Odo told her.  "However, if you ask me, Starfleet was a being a little too lenient."

"And what would you have done?" the ensign asked.  "Send me to a penal colony?"

"I would have made sure to keep you in line," Odo told her.  "As I plan to do now."

"And how exactly do you plan to 'keep me in line?'"

Odo folded his arms and gave Marino one command.  "Take off your necklace."

Marino clasped her pendant protectively as she uttered one word.  "No."

"This is a direct order from your superior officer!"

"And I'll tell you the same thing I told my other superior officers," Marino countered back.  "The only way you're getting this necklace off is over my dead body."

This defiance only served to anger Odo.

"I don't know what they let you get away with in Starfleet but, on my station—" Before the Constable could finish that thought, his computer beeped.  "Yes, Major?" he asked, hitting a button on his desk. 

_"Odo, are you reading something at A14?"_ a female voice asked.

"My security array has been down for two hours," Odo explained to her.  "I'll meet you there."  He shut off his computer and turned to Marino.  "Come with me."

* * *

Odo and Marino walked into the Promenade to see a young Ferengi boy wearing civilian clothes clutching a bag with an adult male B'Kaazi companion doing their best to escape.

"All right, just stand where you are!" Odo ordered.

Meanwhile, a Starfleet man with short black hair and a dark skin tone entered the room along with a Bajoran woman with a light skin tone and chin-length red hair.

"Hold it!" The woman ordered.

The B'Kaazi wound up a mace and threw it at Odo, whose head turned to liquid as he phased through the object.  The Starfleet officer shot the wall and put a halt to it.  In all this confusion, Marino grabbed the Ferengi boy.

"A kid!?" Marino said with disbelief, keeping a grip tight enough not to let him escape and loose enough not to hurt him.

"I'm not a kid, _female_!" the Ferengi spat back at her, as if female were a swear word.  "And my name is Nog."

"Could've fooled me, _kid_ ," Marino said, letting her grip tighten slightly.

While Marino was handling Nog, the B'Kaazi tried to make a run for it only for Odo to block his exit at the last second and hold him against the wall.  The Starfleet officer shot a phaser near Odo and the B'Kaazi's location.

"That's _enough_!" the man said.

"Who the hell are you?" Odo demanded to know, turning to face the man.

"Odo," the woman Marino recognized as the voice from the computer said to him.  "This is our new Starfleet Commander."

"Then that makes you Commander Sisko," Marino said knowingly.

"And you're Ensign Marino," Commander Sisko acknowledged with a slight tone of disapproval.

"You know her?" the major asked.

"She has a bit of a... reputation...."

Odo walked up to Sisko with an angry look.  "I'd hate to break up this little meeting, but I don't allow weapons on the Promenade," he told the commander sternly.  "And that includes phasers."

"Nog," said a distressed voice from Marino's side who sounded like Quark.

The ensign turned around to see the same Ferengi she met earlier, the one intent on leaving.  She felt Nog try to escape her grasp but turned around just in time to stop him.  "Nice try," she told the boy smugly who only hissed back in response.

"What's going on?" Quark asked.

"The boy's in a lot of trouble," Odo explained as he indicated Nog, who Marino still had a grip on.

Quark walked up to Sisko.  "Commander, my name is Quark," he introduced himself.  "I used to run the local gambling establishment." He looked at Nog with resigned disapproval.  "This is my brother's boy."  Quark hissed at Nog.  "Surely you can see that he has only a peripheral involvement in all this."

Marino couldn't help herself from laughing, not that she wanted to.

"Was it something I said?" Quark asked, turning to her.

"I just think you and I have a very different definition of 'peripheral.'"

"Really?" Quark asked her as if he were talking to a small child.  "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Marino clenched her free hand at the former barkeep's condescending tone.  "It means that Nog and his 'friend' were stealing ore samples before leaving."

"Of course, I forgot about your imagination," Quark said with a laugh that sounded condescending and worried at the same time.  "Commander, who are you going to believe?  A respectable business man or a Starfleet officer with a 'reputation?'"

"This Starfleet officer with a _reputation..."_ Marino began, briefly glancing at Sisko to notice a slight smell of cooking spices and marks on his left hand that resembled the handle of a cooking pot.  On Sisko's right hand were a few marks from something Marino couldn't identify and the silhouette of a wedding ring on Sisko's finger.  "Can also tell that our Commander is a divorced chef."

"And I wouldn't call _you_ respectable," the major told Quark with clear distaste.

"Even she agrees with me," Marino said, indicating the major and her resigned facial expression, as if someone forced her to eat gagh.  "And she hates the Federation."

"What?" the woman asked her with slight hostility.

"Come on, you look at everyone in a uniform like they're rats you want to exterminate," Marino told her as if it were obvious.  "You think we're just another group of invaders honing in on your territory, and right after you got rid of your last unwanted guests."

"And what do you know about unwanted guests?!"

"I know a little something about that," Marino said with clear distaste and then quickly changed the subject.  "Just like I know you're a former freedom fighter who's almost as rigid as the Constable."

"Excuse me?!" the Major and Odo shouted at the same time.

"Only someone who spent her entire life fighting the Cardassians would be pissed that the Federation's been stationed here," Marino said to the major in a matter of fact tone.  "Plus, you've both got the resting bitch face and the rigid attitude.  If you ask me, you could both use a good fuck."  The ensign gave the Constable a slight glance.  "Though, I find that hard to believe, considering that I know a ton of people who would love to get their hands on an exotic species like you."  Then Marino looked the Bajoran woman up and down.  "And there's no shortage of people who would help you relieve tension, myself included."

Quark looked at Marino with a lecherous grin on his face, while Odo and the Bajoran looked at Marino as if they wanted to throw her out of an airlock.  Sisko only viewed the situation as if he were torn between irritation and amusement.

"That's quite enough!" he ordered Marino.

Quark turned to Sisko, bringing the issue back to himself.  "Anyway, we're scheduled to depart tomorrow.  If we could—"

Whatever deal Quark wanted to make with Sisko, Marino didn't hear.  She caught sight of the same Cardassian from earlier with his steel blue eyes.  He stood in the hallway, watching her intently like a wolf studying his prey.

"Marino," Odo's stern voice said, breaking the ensign out of her daze.

"Yeah, what?"

"Didn't you hear Commander Sisko?  We need to take Nog to a holding cell."

"Oh, right," the ensign said, her grip firm on Nog's arm as they went to the doors of Odo's office.

Marino spared one last look at where she saw the Cardassian, but he was nowhere in sight.  Either this man was faster than the Flash, picked up some great stealth techniques, or he really was just an illusion.

They went inside Odo's office and made their way to the brig, placing Nog in a holding cell as he protested in a manner similar to Shere Khan when Marino would put him in a pet taxi.  Then they went back to Odo's office, the constable once again taking the seat behind his desk.

"Guess I was a little rude earlier," she told Odo while he looked through the files on his computer.

"A little?" Odo scoffed.

"All right, I was way rude earlier," the ensign corrected, taking a drink from her flask.  "Want a sip?"

"I don't drink."

"Usually, I take that to mean you don't like alcohol even in synthetic form," Marino said, putting her flask away.  "In your case, I'll take it to mean that you don't drink at all."

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"That hired hand threw a mace at you and your head turned to liquid," Marino explained, crossing her arms.  "Not to mention that you carry yourself with a posture way too perfect for someone with your lack of physique."  Then she quickly added.  "If you don't mind me saying."

Odo just nodded.

"So, liquid must be your true form and the bucket is where you rest," Marino deduced, glancing briefly at the bucket with an amused smile.  "Yeah, I was way off about that."

"This time, you're right."

"Hey, a detective is only as good as the information she gathers."

After an uncomfortable pause, Odo broke the silence.  "Does this bother you?"

"Not really.  It just makes me a little nervous," Marino admitted.  "I've never worked with a superhero before."

"A superhero?" Odo repeated, looking up from his computer.

"They're these people with superhuman abilities who use them for the good of mankind," Marino explained, her voice getting more excited as her brain found herself in a world she could only make real on the holodeck.  "Like Superman, the X-Men, Batman and now you."  Marino chuckled a bit.  "Okay, Batman didn't have any super powers but, with his skills, he got around that."

Odo could only answer her with a stunned silence.  "If this is an attempt at flattery, it won't work."

"Trust me, I only speak the truth," Marino told him with a reassuring smile.  "You've got all of the qualities, you have superhuman powers and you only use them in the pursuit of justice."  Her voice dropped.  "Which can't be easy on this station."

"Truer words were never spoken."

"Yeah, look at the people you've got to deal with," Marino said, doing her best to sound sympathetic.  "You've got Quark plotting and scheming every chance he gets, Bajorans learning to hate each other all over again because they no longer share a common enemy and a Cardassian stupid enough to—"

Odo looked up from his computer.  "What's that you said about a Cardassian?"

"Well, I noticed that there was a Cardassian man on the station," Marino explained nonchalantly.  "Tall, blue eyes, civilian clothes, a bit stocky."  She turned to Odo casually.  "You know him?"

"His name is Garak," Odo explained, getting up from his seat.  "And he's the station's tailor."

"So why's he conducting his business on a Bajoran station?" Marino asked Odo and then corrected herself.  "Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to judge someone's merit based on whether they have ridges on their neck, but the majority can be rather simplistic and—"

"—They wouldn't buy from a Cardassian."

"Worse, they'd tar and feather him," Marino said under her breath yet loud enough for Odo to hear.  "Or the 24th Century equivalent of it."

"Tar and feather?"

"A long time ago, people used to smear hot tar on someone they despised and cover them with feathers," Marino shuddered at the thought.  "I'm sure they don't have an archaic practice like that on Bajor and the Federation would never allow it, but I can't imagine that some of the more simplistic minded Bajorans would ever purchase clothes from a Cardassian tailor."  The ensign contemplatively looked out the door window at the ruins of the Promenade.  "So, either the guy's really stupid or being a tailor is his cover."

"I hate to say it, but you do have a point," Odo conceded.  "Now that Quark's leaving, I might have more time to investigate Garak," he stated and then looked at Marino.  "And you."

"Actually, I don't think Quark's leaving," Marino said, turning back to look Odo in the eye.  "And something tells me, even with your abilities, you won't have time to keep an eye on me, Quark and Garak."

"And why do you think Quark's not leaving?"

"Well, I think the station needs the Promenade to function and who better to bring it to life than Quark?"

Odo scoffed.  "Try telling Quark that."

"I did, he didn't listen to me," Marino said bitterly.  "Though I think he'll listen to Sisko."

Right on cue, Sisko and Quark walked through the door to Odo's office.

"We have a few things to discuss," Sisko explained.

"Then I guess you don't need me," Marino said, about to leave through the door.

"Actually, Ensign, I was hoping to talk to you after this is over," Sisko said with a slight commanding tone.

"It might be awhile," Marino pointed out.  "I've got my work cut out for me on DS9, and I don't think you're quite done integrating yourself with the Bajorans."

"All right, Ensign Marino," he said with a slight distaste.  "After I've talked with the Bajoran government, I'd like to have a meeting with you."  Then Sisko smiled in a way that Marino found unsettling.  "Then we can talk all about your deductions and your past."

* * *

Patel went to the Infirmary, the only room in the station that looked the least as if a bomb went off.  He sorted through some of the files, wondering when the new CMO would get here and add the Starfleet records.  However, he had to admit, it was amazing what information the Cardassians already had on their computer.  One in particular impressed him, a file about a man named Crell.  Patel heard of this Cardassian doctor through Starfleet Medical files, but he never knew that this was the very man who cured the Fotossa Virus.  Patel couldn't help but smile, glad that, even in the darkest times, there was still some hope.  Sure, it might be a little cheesy, but it was still a happy thought.

Patel left the Infirmary with nothing left to do but look at the huge mess of scattered chairs, tables and the dishes practically covering the floor.

_I don't envy the cleaning crew,_ he thought, scanning the huge mess.

Then he saw a Bajoran woman with her red hair at chin length and a stern expression on her face placing one of the fallen circular tables upright.

"Need any help?" he asked her.

"Go ahead," the woman told him bitterly.  "If it's not too much work for you."

"Don't worry about me," Patel told her, holding the other end of the table.  "I used to help set up the Parissee Squares equipment before I made the team."

"What's Parissee Squares?"

"It's a sport we play on Earth," Patel answered as he and the woman carried the table to the center of the room.  "One that's a little difficult to explain."

"Why's that?" the woman asked him as they put the table down.

"You just have to see it to believe it," Patel told her, taking a nearby chair that was still intact.  "I'm Chris by the way.  Dr. Chris Patel."

"Major Kira Nerys," Nerys told him as she grabbed one of the nearby chairs.

"Nice to meet you, Major Nerys," Patel said, placing the chair near the table..

"Major Kira," Kira told her as she placed her chair right across from where Patel placed his.  "Bajorans use their family names first and their given names last."

"Some places on Earth do that too."

"Are you from one of them?"

"No," Patel answered, walking to a nearby table.  "I'm from New Jersey.  My parents are from Gujarat."  Patel smiled as the intense heat brought back memories.  "We actually had a summer home there."

"How nice," Kira said bitterly as she walked to the same table.

"What about you?" Patel asked as they worked together to set the table up right.

"I grew up on an occupied Bajor, struggling to survive and we didn't have a nice summer home," Kira told him, the anger seething in her voice.

Patel's face fell.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to rub it in," he said as they both lifted the table and then quickly changed the subject.  "So, what kind of sports are popular on Bajor?"

"We're very into springball," Kira answered as they carried the table to the left and placed it.

"What's that?"

"It's difficult to explain," Kira told him sharply.  "You'd have to see it for yourself."

"Maybe you can show me sometime," Patel suggested, finding a nearby chair and picking it up.  "And, in return, I can show you Parissee Squares."

Kira turned to him, giving him a suspicious look as she picked up her own chair.  "I don't know what you want from me, but I'm not giving it."

"You think..." Patel said hesitantly, as he placed his chair near the newly upright table.  "No, I'm not hitting on you.  Don't get me wrong, you're not ugly but I'm not really interested in women."

"Oh," Kira said, relaxing her voice as she placed her chair across from where Patel put his.  "So, you prefer men."

"Yeah," Patel said with a smile.  "I hope that's not a problem."

"The Prophets have no issue with homosexuality."

"That's good," Patel said with a sigh of relief, seeing a table with a leg broken off and walking right by it.  "Though I hope you don't think I'm rude if I ask you who the Prophets are."

"They're our gods," Kira explained, placing a table with its legs fully intact upright.  "And the one thing that kept the Bajoran people together."

"What are they like?" Patel asked, walking to the table and picking it up at the same time as Kira.

"They're benevolent, they guard and guide Bajor and they speak to us through the Orbs," Major Kira explained as they carried this table to the right.

"So, it's like how my uncle worships statues," Patel said as they let go of the table.

"What do you mean?"  Kira asked, walking past a chair that was in pieces.

"My uncle has these weird looking statues of what he claims is our gods," Patel explained, stifling back his own laughter.

"You don't seem to have a high opinion of your planet's religion," Kira observed picking up a chair that was still intact.

"Oh, it's not my planet's religion," Patel told her, picking up another nearby chair.  "It used to be one of our many religions, but we're atheists now."

"Your uncle doesn't sound like an atheist," Kira pointed out as she placed the chair near the table.

"Okay, there are a few exceptions," Patel admitted as he placed his chair across from hers.  "But it's generally looked down upon."

"Like how the Cardassians looked down upon our religion," Kira said bitterly as she passed a broken table.  "Flogging anyone who dared to even mention the Prophets."

"No, we're not that extreme!" Patel defended, seeing an intact table and placing it upright.  "We haven't flogged anybody for religious practices."

"You just mock them for having beliefs different from your own," Kira claimed as she walked to the table Patel just set up.

Patel wanted to point out to Kira that it's still not the same as flogging them; how his people didn't gather them up and put them into concentration camps.  Then again, maybe verbal mocking wasn't really the sign of an enlightened species either.  Patel picked up his end of the table at the same time as Kira.

"You're right."

* * *

Marino went back into Odo's office as soon as Quark and Sisko left.

"That went well," she stated.

"I'm going to deduce that you saw the whole thing," Odo observed.

Marino nodded her head.  "Couldn't hear anything, but I could tell from the body language what went down."

"Then you must know that Nog needs to be released."

"Yeah," Marino told him.  "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

"I was going to order you to do that anyway."

Marino walked through the door to the brig to find herself greeted by the same neutral colors that graced this station with the holding cell openings resembling five sided polygons.  The Ferengi child pouted in the cell on the left.

"Hey, kid," Marino greeted.

Nog looked up at her as if he recognized her from somewhere else.

"Keep staring like that and you'll go blind."

"You look familiar," Nog muttered.

Marino scoffed.  "If you're going to pick women up, at least stick with the ones that are your own age."

"You're not my type, _female_ ," he told her, once again, uttering female as if it were a dirty word.  "You're too skinny and you don't know your place."

"You mean right outside your cell about to release you?" Marino asked with a false innocence as she looked at the panel.

"Don't talk back to me."

"You expect me to keep my mouth shut while you insult me?" Marino asked him sardonically.  "Not how I roll, kid."

"Where I come from, females do as they're told," Nog defended, foolishly believing that he had any authority.

"Great, I'm dealing with the Ferengi Joffrey," Marino said as she rolled her eyes. 

"Who?"

"Nevermind," Marino said with a dismissal wave.  "Look, I know how life on Ferenginar works," the ensign told the young Ferengi.  "You keep your women planet bound and naked, beating them if they so much as ask where you're going."  Nog said nothing, meeting Marino's words with cold silence.  "Well, on my planet, we don't judge someone's abilities based on whether they have a penis," Marino countered and then softened up.  "Well, not anymore."

"We're not on your planet, Hew-mon."

"And we're not on your planet either," Marino countered.  "We're on Deep Space Nine and, tell me, which of our planets are the rules similar to?"  She held up her head in false contemplation and then snapped her head in Nog's direction.  "Oh, that's right, mine."

Nog looked into Marino's eyes with strong defiance.

"Look, I don't care how things are done on your planet, not my problem," Marino said to him.  "But, here, I'm the one who's about to release you.  Which gives me, the 'lowly female,' the power."  She looked Nog in the eye.  "Believe me, kid, you don't want to piss off the people in power."

"Odo outranks you," Nog pointed out.  "So he holds the true power."

"All right, you've got a point there," Marino said.  "But I, an _ensign_ , outrank you, a civilian, and I can easily report any future crimes you, or your uncle, commit to Odo, putting you right back in this cell."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself, Hew-mon."

"Look, _Ferengi_ , I figured out what you and your uncle were up to with no effort on my part," Marino said to him.  "Do you really want me on your bad side?"  Nog didn't say anything.  "I'll take that silence as a no."  She pressed the control panel and turned off the force field.  "All right, kid, you're free to go," Marino told him.  "But, if you even think about spewing your sexist crap on me again, I'll have you in here faster than you can say gold pressed latinum, capishe?"

Nog only met Marino's words with stone cold silence.  "Understand?" Marino translated.  Nog nodded and left in a hurry.  Marino went back to Odo's office, who sat on his chair with his arms crossed.  "Impressed?" Marino asked, beaming with pride.

"I suppose you won't be as much of a hindrance as I thought."

"I'll take that as a yes," Marino said.  "Anyway, about this Garak..."

"I know, it's clear that I can't investigate Quark, keep you from trouble and worry about Garak at the same time," Odo told her.  "So, I'll have to delegate."

"And who will you delegate Garak to?"

"Don't you already know?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear you say it," Marino explained with a shrug.

"You," Odo told her.  "Keep an eye on Garak and find out whether he's an exile or a spy."

"Yes sir!" Marino said with a mock salute.  "I won't let you down!"

Marino left Odo's office with a satisfied smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading Chapter 2 of Mind Games as much as I enjoyed writing it. I do plan to give this my attention, but I'm also working on original fiction and my video game review blog in-between. I also got my Batman beta-reader back, so I'm getting back to my Batman fanfic. Well, that and I'm learning to drive, so that's taking up my time. However, I'm proud to say that I managed to drive to the grocery store without my mom in the passenger's seat, or following me in another car. Read, review, and I'm open to constructive criticism. Like I said in my blog, I won't always take your suggestions but I promise that I'll always consider them. If you want a chance for one of your OCs to have a cameo in my series, talk to me and we'll discuss it privately. I'm also open for RPing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, I'm back with another chapter! I'd like to thank MammonDaughter from fanfiction for beta-reading and both s2ka and forevermedhok from Deviantart for drawing illustrations for this story that you can see on that very site. For those of you wondering what happened to Allucia, she had an eye infection that's so bad, she has a hard time beta-reading, but I do thank her for all of the help she's been. So I really hope that she gets better. I'd also like to remind you that, if you recognize it from the Star Trek community, I don't own it.

Candy walked to the Promenade and went through the door to see workers setting up the, tables, chairs and the Dabo wheel while Quark unpacked his supplies behind the bar.  She stopped in front of him.  "I see you decided to stay."

"And tomorrow Quark's will be open for business," the barkeep responded back only half-heartedly.  "Where you can gamble at the Dabo wheel, drink to your heart's content and enjoy yourself in my holosuite arcade."

"And, maybe tomorrow, you'll sound a bit more enthusiastic," Marino said sardonically.

"You try sounding 'enthusiastic' when someone blackmails you with your nephew's freedom," Quark told Marino as he unpacked.  "Assuming you have one."

"Oh, I've got more than one," Marino told him.  "And I wouldn't be surprised if they all ended up in jail."

All Quark could do was blink silently at the ensign's nonchalant remark.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're staying," Marino said, perking up.  "I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk about the working relationship I had in mind."

It was Quark's turn to perk up as he put the bottles away.  "And what working relationship would this be?"

"The _platonic_ one I tried to talk to you about before you blew me off," Marino told him as she rolled her eyes.  "And, if you'd think more with your brain and less with your dick or, in your case, lobes, I could tell you what that is."

"All right," Quark said to the ensign, humoring her.  "I'm told that you're the one who released my nephew, so I'll hear you out."

Marino put her arms behind her back and stood up straight.

"I've noticed that you've got quite the cantina here," she observed.  "You've got the dabo wheel, the holosuites all belong to you and you have a bar."  Marino looked around, glancing at each object as she mentioned it, and then drawing attention to the one thing the bar didn't have.  "But you don't have a singer."

"Forget it, you know how much it costs to hire a professional?"

"I'd do it for free," Marino offered.

Quark laughed.  "Are you serious?"

"All right, I wouldn't exactly call myself a professional, but people tell me I have a beautiful voice," she admitted as she put her arms to her side.  "And you'd still have to pay me, but only in information."

"What kind of information?" Quark asked her suspiciously.

"Just anything you know about what's going on in the station," Marino said with a shrug.  "Any crimes, important gossip, stuff like that."

"And you'll pay me for it with your voice," the barkeep said, the disbelief evident in his voice.  "Taking time out of your Starfleet schedule to help out an honest businessman."

It was Marino's turn to laugh.

 "One, find another Starfleet officer to use your 'honest businessman' routine on," she managed to say between laughs before composing herself.  "Two, I was thinking that I only perform occasionally, sing just one song and then, when I'm done, I'll advertise a part of your bar."

Quark scanned Marino thoughtfully without any sign of perversion, which was a first for him.

"Look, just give me a trial run," the ensign suggested.  "If I don't perform as well as I say I can, the deal's off."

"All right," Quark challenged.  "Show me what you've got."

Marino stared at the barkeep as if he'd gone insane.  "Right now?"

"You just said you wanted me to give you a trial run."

"Yeah, but I can't perform looking like this." 

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking that I perform with my hair down, all made up, wearing a beautiful dress."  She said in a dreamlike state.  "Preferably tailor-made."

"Then you'll want to see Garak for that," Quark told her.  "He's the only tailor on the station."

"And also the only Cardassian."

"I take it you two already met."

"I've seen him around," Marino answered.  "Though, I have to admit, I don't really know that much about him."

"I don't know that much about him either," Quark admitted.  "I just sometimes order some clothes from him and send customers his way."

"So, he's a business associate."

"Well, I don't know if I'd call him that, but he does buy a few things from me," the barkeep said, perking Marino up.  "Don't get too excited, it's only boring tailoring tools."

Marino's face fell.  "Nothing of interest," she said out loud and then quickly followed it with.  "Has he ever said anything to you that seemed a little strange?"

"He doesn't really frequent my establishment and I don't frequent his," Quark explained and then smiled.  "You seem really interested in Garak.  Should I set the two of you up?"

"I just find it weird that there's a Cardassian on a Bajoran space station," the ensign told him with a shrug.  "Don't you?"

"Honestly, I find him a bit scary."

"Really?" she asked him, intrigued.

"Yeah, and dangerous."

"Why do you think he's dangerous?"

"The way he talks, the way he smiles," Quark admitted.  "I can't really explain it.  Just trust me when I tell you to keep your distance."

"Don't worry about me, I like a little danger," Marino told him with a smirk.

Quark responded with his own perverted smile.  "If that's what you're looking for, I can be a little dangerous myself."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Marino responded, making her way to the door.  Before leaving she spared Quark one last look.  "By the way, selling Blitz is legal in the Federation."

"Actually, I sell Trinity," Quark told her.  "It's the Bajoran version of Blitz, not as good but it gets the job done."

* * *

Marino walked through the corridor, seeing two passing Starfleet officers stop their conversation to give her a disapproving glance.  It wasn't long until she found herself at the Tailor Shop, seeing a row of dresses, suits, and other clothing items.  Marino immediately headed for the dresses.

"Is there something I can help you with?" a smooth voice asked from behind her.

She turned around to see the same Cardassian from earlier with jet black hair combed back and steel blue eyes that seemed as warm and inviting as his smile.  Yet they also seemed to be shielding something, as if he were an actor taught to convey false emotion with his eyes to the point where he became the character.  The scales on his forehead formed the shape of a spoon, which might have been how that racial slur came to be.  Marino found herself staring at the ridges on his neck, wondering how they would feel if she stroked them.

"Do you see anything that pleases you?" he asked in a pleasant tone, almost seductive.

"Oh," Marino said quickly, breaking out of her stupor.  "I've never been this close to a Cardassian male before."

"That's quite all right, my dear," he told her.  "This is the closest I've been to a human."

"Then it's a new experience for both of us," Marino stated awkwardly, something that made the Cardassian nod.

"Now, my dear, do you require my services or did you only wish to have your first contact with a Cardassian?"

"It's the first one," Marino told him, backing away from the dresses.  "Quark sent me here and I was hoping you could make a dress for me."

"Of course, my dear," the Cardassian, who must be this Garak she heard about, told her in his pleasant voice.  "Provided that you don't mind me taking your measurements."

"No, not at all," the ensign told him, standing still as he got out his tailoring kit.  "I'm not ashamed of my body."

"And you shouldn't be," Garak told her, opening the case and taking out his measurer.  "However, you might want to consider eating a bit more."  The tailor indicated towards Candy's underfed figure.

"You think I'm skinny, I oughta show you a picture of Jasmine," she told him as he used the measurer to scan her height.

"Jasmine?" Garak asked Marino in his smooth voice.

"She's my niece, well one of them," Marino said, quickly correcting herself as he moved the measurer to her breasts, or lack of, while she raised her arms up.  "The girl's so skinny, you can practically see her bones."

"That does not sound like a pleasing mental image," Garak told Marino as she felt his breath near her ear, taking in his intoxicating scent.

 

 

"You got that right," Marino responded, picturing her anorexic niece as Garak used the measurer to scan her thin waist.  "Believe it or not, it's quite common where I come from.  Someone's not happy with their weight, so they develop an eating disorder."

"And here I thought Earth was a paradise," Garak told her in his silky smooth voice, erasing the image of Jasmine from her mind.

"Well, there's no war or poverty on Earth."

"And yet humans develop eating disorders on this same planet."

"Anyone can develop an eating disorder, no matter where you live Mr..." Marino said, trying to keep an innocent tone while defending her home planet.  "I don't think you told me your name."

"Oh, forgive my rudeness," Garak said, moving the measurer to Marino's small hips.  "My name is Garak, plain, simple Garak.  As you can see, I'm a Cardassian by birth and the only one of my kind left on this station."

"I'm Ensign Candy Marino, a human Italian-American Starfleet officer from Redbank, New Jersey, Earth, and I'm new to this station," she responded in kind. 

"Italian-American?"

"It means that I'm an American citizen with Italian ancestry," Marino explained, fidgeting her body a bit.  "My mom's ancestors are from Sicily and my Dad's ancestors are from Tuscany."

"Please, stand still, my dear."

"Oh, didn't mean to throw you off," the ensign told him apologetically while watching the Tailor's face for any sign of interest.  Surprisingly, he kept his composure.  "So, is Garak your first or your last name?"

"Does it really matter, Ensign Marino?"

"I'm just not sure if I should ask you to call me Candy or Marino," she explained, brushing back a loose strand of her hair with a smile on her face.

Garak only answered with a smile as he put his measuring device back in his kit.  "Tell me, my dear, is there any particular dress you're looking for?"

"Well, I'll be singing at Quark's as soon as I get it," Marino explained, clasping her pendant as if she was in deep thought.

"Really?" Garak asked her intrigued.  "And how did Quark agree to that?"

"I asked him to give me a trial run," Marino told the tailor as she turned to face him.  "I plan to only sing one song on occasion and end it by promoting an aspect of Quark's bar."  She quickly added.  "If you want, I could also tell everyone that you made my dress."

"That's very considerate of you, Ensign but, I assure you, my shop is doing just fine," Garak told her reassuringly.

"How?" Marino asked curiously and then corrected herself.  "I don't mean to overstep my bounds, but how can a Tailor Shop run by a Cardassian expect to make a living here."  Marino stroked her pendant.  "For that matter, why start a Tailor shop on a Bajoran space station?"

"Why, my dear, this is beginning to sound like an interrogation," Garak said with that same charming smile.

"Just my imagination running away with me," Marino explained, showing a slight embarrassment in her voice.

"No need to be embarrassed," Garak told her.  "An imaginative mind is the sign of intelligence."

"Really?" Marino asked, not even bothering to hide her flattery.  "Then I must be one of the most intelligent minds in the universe."

Garak only responded with a smile.  "Why, my dear, I doubt that I would go that far." Marino clenched her fist, fighting back a strong urge to prove him wrong.  "However, to answer your question, exile leaves you very few options."  Marino tilted her head to show that she was listening.  "I had a somewhat successful Tailor Shop on Cardassia.  Unfortunately, I exaggerated my success and found myself in serious trouble for tax fraud."

"That's a little harsh," Marino said, feigning sympathy while hoping that Garak couldn't figure out her ignorance.

"I suppose a member of the Federation would see it that way," Garak said to her.  "Now, what is it that you're looking for in your dress?"

"I'm not sure," Marino said in deep thought, clasping her pendant once again.  "I know I want something elegant, but that's a no-brainer."  Then turned to Garak.  "What do you think would be best?"

"Well, my dear," Garak said studying her as if she were a muse for an unpainted canvas.  "I would suggest something eye-catching with a unique quality."  Garak put his hand on her shoulder and looked at her pendant with admiration.  "Much like this—"

Marino's mind clouded with panic as she pushed Garak away from her.  "Don't touch me!" she shrieked.

For a minute, Garak looked startled but then quickly picked himself back up.

"Looks like this charade is over," Marino admitted with a sigh of relief.  "I've got to say, you're good."

"I wouldn't underestimate your talent either."

"So, who are you really?"

"Why, my dear, I'm just a simple tailor making my way in a harsh galaxy," Garak told her, giving his same huge grin as if he was taunting her.  "Haven't you already deduced that?"

* * *

Patel found himself near the door of his quarters feeling his muscles ache from the hard labor.  He heard guitar playing and a deep female voice singing through the door.

"Under pumpkins' orange lights we both approached as if to greet  
Sharing shy smiles we thought then walked on by never again to meet"

Marino sang "bang bang" a few times as Patel walked in and saw Marino strumming her guitar on the couch, her face almost relaxed.

"I can't wipe the smile off my face please be mine."

Marino got up and put her guitar in the case near the wall only for Shere Khan to play with the strings.  "No way, I'm not replacing another guitar string because of you again," she told him as she slowly lowered the lid, waiting for Shere Khan to take the hint before shutting it all the way and then setting up the latches as the cat tried to stick his paws in the small gap and tried to open the case.

"Is he going to be okay?" Patel asked.

"He's tried this before," Marino said with a wave of her hand.  "He'll get the hint."

"I see you're still playing the guitar," Patel said with a smile.  "So, what song was that?"

"Bang Bang by Iwan Rheon," Marino explained, sitting back on the couch and taking a look at the box in the corner with a red and green light, the former lit.  "He's an obscure songwriter, so I doubt that you've heard of him."

"No more than you've heard of Graeme Obree."

"He's also a famous actor from the 21st Century, played Ramsey Snow on Game of Thrones," Marino said as if Patel hadn't said anything.  "The holo-program even uses his likeness and, let me tell you, he's really gorgeous."

"Graeme Obree?" Patel said confused, remembering Ramsay Snow's look was nothing like the famous and yet obscure athlete he mentioned.

"No, Iwan Rheon," Marino told him as if it were obvious.

"I'm not really interested in megalomaniacs who love to skin people alive."

"Neither am I," Marino told him.  "But I'd love to go back in time and meet him in a bar."  Marino's face and voice went into a dreamlike state.  "I order a drink and he sits next to me, impressed that I'm not fawning over him.  We talk music, then one thing leads to another and—"

"Candy, I get that you're a grown woman and you have needs, but I don't want to hear about them."

"You're such a prude," Marino told him as she glanced at the box.

"Beats being a sex addict," Patel replied in a joking tone as the green light on the box lit up.

"Finally," Marino said with exasperation as vapor left the box.

"Is that Blitz?!" Patel asked, recognizing the scent as he accidentally inhaled the vapors.

Marino inhaled the vapors.  "You expect me to eat a Blitz infused cookie every night?" she said giggling.  "If I did that, I'd be fatter than Jabba the Hutt."

Patel felt his heart pound as his head become lighter.  "You could stand to gain some weight," he told the ensign as he felt this huge wave of apathy rush over him.

This only made Marino giggle harder.  "That is the exact same thing Garak told me when he was measuring me for a dress."

"Who's Garak?" Patel asked, taking the seat on the couch next to Candy.

"He's the Cardassian tailor... or spy," Marino told him.  "I haven't figured it out yet."

"You managed to figure out what room I was going to by the sound of my footsteps," Patel pointed out, slumping in the chair.  "You knew I was going to contact my sister and I didn't even have to tell you."

"That's nothing," Marino responded.  "I figured out that our barkeep does shady business behind the scenes and it only took me one look around the Constable's office to figure out his deal."  She inhaled the fume that surrounded them.  "This Garak is another matter."

"How?"

"I can't get an accurate reading on him," Marino admitted.  "Tried talking to the guy today, but all he'd tell me is that he's a simple tailor who got exiled for lying about his shop when paying for..."  She stroked her pendant.  "What did he call it, texes?  No, that's a southern US state.  Toxes... that's not even a word."

"You sure he didn't mean taxes?" Patel asked, inhaling the fumes.

Marino snapped her fingers.  "Yeah, that's right, taxes," she said and then frowned.  "What are taxes?"

Patel couldn't help but guffaw.  "You don't know what taxes are?"

Marino only shook her head.

"It's the money we had to pay to the government year-round," Patel explained, remembering his Middle School history lesson.  "It's from back in the days when Earth used money."

"Doesn't explain why someone would lie on them."

"Can I see that PADD?" Patel asked, pointing to the Cardassian PADD on the end table.

Marino reached her hand for the PADD only to activate a small sinister clown hologram dressed more like a Victorian Era jester, causing Patel to jump up from the couch.  "We alllll float down here," the mini-hologram said with a sinister smile.

"Oops," Marino muttered before bursting into giggles as the clown laughed maniacally.

Shere Khan quickly lost interest in the guitar case and jumped on the end table, hissing at the menacing hologram while swatting it with his paws.  This only made Marino laugh harder as Patel settled back on the couch, joining in the laughter.  The ensign finally turned the frightening hologram off.

"It's all right, Shere Khan," Marino said, petting the cat.  "It's just your momma's hologram, no one's in danger."

Shere Khan jumped on Marino's lap and curled into a ball. 

"What the fuck was that thing?" Patel asked, recovering from the slight shock.

"That's the second version of Pennywise the Dancing Clown from Stephen King's IT," Marino explained as she petted Shere Khan.  "The clown that lived in the sewers of Derry, Maine and ate children?"

"I know who he is," Patel told her.  "I just wanted to know why you have a mini-hologram of him in the living room."

"Yeah, pretty freaky, huh?" Marino said giggling.  "I was thinking about putting it in Constable Odo's office."

"Why?" Patel asked.

"Because his office is sooo boring," Marino complained.  "I wanted to help him spice it up a bit."

"Well, unless your goal is to alienate your new boss, don't put that in his office," Patel advised her.

Marino giggled.  "You've got a point.  Odo's a shapeshifter and Pennywise is a shapeshifting clown, so that might be offensive." 

"Our Constable's a shapeshifter?" Patel asked, his brain feeling even more light-headed as he inhaled the fumes.

"Yeah, and humanoid isn't even his true form," Marino told him absentmindedly.

"What is his true form?"

"He turns into liquid and rests in a bucket," Marino said as she petted the cat with a dazed look in her eyes.  "Anyway, what was I getting?"

"I don't remember, what were we talking about?" Patel asked, every bit as confused as Marino. 

"Something about the Cardassian tailor and this thing called taxes," Marino said, petting Shere Khan.  "Oh, now I remember."

Marino grabbed the Cardassian PADD on the end table and handed it to Patel.  Who took the PADD and looked at it only to discover everything written in Cardassian.

"Did you turn off the translator?" Patel asked.

"I never had it on," Marino answered, petting a satisfied Shere Khan.

"Don't tell me you can read Cardassian," Patel joked with a smile.

"Just another one of my many talents," Marino said proudly as she took the PADD away from Chris.

"Apparently, one of them isn't modesty."

"If you got it, flaunt it," Marino said proudly, typing into the PADD.

"Well, you've definitely got it," Patel said appreciatively, catching Marino a bit off-guard.  "But I'm sure you've got plenty of people telling you that."

"Actually, you're the first," Marino told him.  "People usually tell me to shut the fuck up."

"Rest assured, you'll never hear that from me," Patel told her, making Marino feel a bit more off guard.

After a few minutes of silence, Marino finally spoke.  "I managed to find something about cheating on taxes."

"What does it say?"

"Something about people trying to get more latinum on their tax refunds, or having to pay less," Marino said groggily, putting the PADD on the end table.  "It's kind of long, so I don't want to read the whole thing right now."

"You said that this Garak got exiled for it."

"Yeah, and I already told you that I suspect that he's lying," Marino said.  "Or he might not be telling me the whole truth."

"Or he might just be a common tailor and he's putting on an act to impress you," Patel suggested in an amused tone.  "Like how your brother, Ken, once told a woman he was the long lost son of Captain Picard."

"First of all, he's my half-brother," Marino told Patel.  "Second of all, if that were the case, I would've picked up on that when I first met him."

"Speaking of Ken, how's he doing?"

"He's on a Federation planet I've never heard of, mooching off of his third wife and I hope this one's stupid enough to keep him," Marino said bitterly and then added nonchalantly.  "Oh, and he's also a registered sex offender."

Patel guffawed until he noticed that Marino wasn't laughing.  "You're serious?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Marino told him reassuringly.  "Ken picked up a sixteen-year-old girl at a club with a fake ID.  Cost him his second marriage."  Marino petted Shere Khan in contemplation.  "No, his second wife divorced him after he left their kid in the school pick up lawn until 2300 hours.  Was it another one of his broken engagements?"

"What about your sister, Tanya?"

"She's married to Josh," Marino told him nonchalantly.  "Your former Parrisee Squares captain."

"I'm sorry to hear," Patel said sympathetically.  "I know you had a huge crush on him."

Marino didn't even bother holding back her laughter.

"Was it something I said?"

It took a few minutes for Marino to finally get a hold of herself.  "I got over that crush eons ago."

"Glad to hear," Patel told her with genuine happiness.  "I never really cared much for that guy."

"You couldn't tell me this when we were in high school?" Marino asked jokingly, though it sounded somewhat serious to Patel.

"So, how is Josh?" Patel asked her in a desperate attempt to change the subject.  "Did his dream about playing Parrisee Squares professionally come true?"

"Hardly, he wasn't good enough to qualify and he had to marry Tanya because he knocked her up," Marino said as if it were a funny joke.  "Now he works as a waiter and spends most of his time bitching and moaning about being a has-been married to the Evil Queen."

Patel chuckled.  "I forgot that we used to call her that."

"We're still calling her that," Marino informed him.  "They've also got two kids, Jasmine and Dean.  Jasmine looks like a walking skeleton thanks to Tanya hassling her about her weight.  Dean's on drugs for ADD, which I'm still convinced is just Tanya trying to get out of actual parenting."

"What about your parents?"

"They're divorced.  My mom's still in our house on Earth," Marino told him.  "She teaches high school science and writes in her spare time."  The ensign continued petting Shere Khan.  "My dad left when I was fifteen.  He captains a freighter now."

"So, he left Earth shortly before you did."

For a minute, Marino almost looked depressed.  Then she pet Shere Khan and the look disappeared.

"How about your family?" she asked him and then answered for him.  "No, let me guess.  Your mom and dad still got their high-status Federation jobs.  Your dad's still cheating on your mom, who drowns her sorrows in wine.  Your sister's studying abroad in Andoria and you got dumped."

"How did you know all that?"

"It's simple," Marino said as if a three-year-old could figure it out.  "When you walked in here, your eyes looked like you were wiping away tears and your nose looked stuffed.  You also got this worried look on your face when I mentioned Cathy.  So, she must be studying somewhere dangerous and, considering her interests in alien-animal life, it's not hard to believe the place would be Andoria.  Your mom and dad only married each other for status, but your dad can't help sleeping around.  I also remember your mom drinking something that looked like a funny grape juice, which I now know is wine."

"Right on all counts," Patel said, feeling his own depression seep through and then perking up.  "Well, I just talked to Cathy.  She's got a kind of sort of not really Andorian boyfriend now."  This made Marino chuckle.  "I also managed to find some medical notes written by Crell Moset and I think I'm making friends with Major Kira Nerys."

"Yeah, don't really know who Crell Moset is."

"He's a Cardassian doctor famous among Federation circles," Patel explained.  "He set up a dozen hospitals on Bajor and cured the Fostossa virus."

"I'm guessing he infected a dozen of Bajorans to find it," Marino said with an almost frightening nonchalance as she petted Shere Khan.

"And how would you know that?" Patel asked her curiously.

"Wouldn't be the first time a doctor in power got medical info through torture," Marino said with a shrug.  "I know that's how many Nazi doctors got their info."

"If you're talking about Mengele, his notes were thrown away," Patel pointed out, remembering his lessons from Starfleet Medical. "But he wasn't the only one who experimented on patients."

"And the Cardassian doctors probably did the same, including this Crell Moset," Marino told him. "I'd bet my necklace on it."

Patel chuckled. "A few minutes you didn't know who Crell Moset was and now you're an expert?"

"I never said I was an expert," Marino corrected. "I'm just speculating, though I really would like to learn more about this guy. Maybe our tailor knows him."

"Yeah, because all Cardassians know each other," Patel said with a chuckle. "How about Kira?"

"I don't think bringing up a Cardassian who might have experimented on Kira's people is going to win me any points with her," Marino pointed out. "Though you could ask."

Patel laughed. "There is no way in hell I'm making an enemy out of Major Kira," he told her as he got up from the couch. "I'd better get to bed, it's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Patel was about to enter his room until Marino spoke. "Now I remember. Ken was dating a woman he was about to propose to when he got registered." The ensign started laughing. "Needless to say, she dumped him before he could."

"I don't blame her," Patel said and then went to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I'm sorry if the last scene was offensive and I never intended to make light of a historical tragedy. However, Marino is sociopathic and would make light of these things. Patel is also high and isn't fully comprehending what they're talking about. Also, that song Marino was singing was an actual song by Game of Thrones actor, Iwan Rheon. Be sure to check it out on Youtube! Graeme Obree is also a real guy I found when I was looking up obscure athletes. As for Quark and Garak's arrangement, I read that they had it in A Stitch in Time. Great book, you should really check it out. Anyway, please review because that keeps me motivated. If you want your character to have a cameo, feel free to PM me about it. I'm also open to RPing if you're interested.

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, Candy is based off of characters like House and Sherlock, so of course she's going to be a bitch. There will be other original characters besides Candy and Chris that I posted on deviantart. PM me for the link but I have to warn you, the info contains some spoilers for future plans. This story is based off of an email RP I used to do with my mother, so it's very important to me.
> 
> I'm also going to use the suggestions made by SFDebris for some of the episodes he reviewed rather than copying each episode exactly, and he will be my main go to guy for how to write the characters, even if he doesn't know it.
> 
> Just so you know, the music Candy's playing that she calls Cardassian classical is Music for 18 Musicians by Steve Reich. I googled Cardassian music and people were speculating what it would sound like. One person suggested this for Cardassian classical and it's actually quite good. I sometimes find myself meditating to it.
> 
> I'm also offering cameos for anyone who'd love to have their OCs in my story. Just message me and we'll discuss the details.


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